


Only You

by waywardriot



Series: Vanven Week 2018 [2]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, VanVen Week 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 23:01:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17109806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardriot/pseuds/waywardriot
Summary: There is only one thing Vanitas needs to be whole—the χ-blade, right? That's only until he really found Ventus.Vanven Week Day 2: Hollow





	Only You

**Author's Note:**

> i really had fun with this prompt, so it's far longer than the others will end up being! enjoy some sad vanitas getting the comfort he needs.
> 
> the concept of darkness leaking out of vanitas's body is slightly modified from olivemeister's concept of vanitas vomiting out darkness. highly recommend his fics!!

Vanitas was bursting with emotions, yet somehow his existence was hollow.

His heart constantly thrummed with the force of the negativity inside of him, the darkness that leaked from his heart and scratched at his skin from the inside, threatening to rip it open to burst out. The ignored darkness plunged its tendrils into his heart and mind, making gaping holes until the edges fell apart like sand.

Letting it out physically was the only way to keep him sane, to keep him from shredding from the inside out. The hollowness didn’t feel good, but really, _nothing_ in Vanitas’s life felt good. At least creating monsters was better than keeping it in until manifested darkness forced its way out of his very self, smothering him and making him pass out from all the pent-up feelings raging inside of him.

Still, the hollowness couldn’t last. He was commanded over and over to destroy his creations, cut them down until he was strong enough; the thing is, he didn’t know what it meant to be strong enough. He simply obeyed, slicing his fragmented emotions into wisps of darkness that brought pain upon pain upon pain, filling the hole in his chest with pure, unfiltered suffering.

He was a monster, anyways. An abomination beyond hope of salvation, something drilled into him until those words echoed around his head as he screamed into his pillow. The voices would be quieted by the emptiness, so he kept pushing his feelings out until he was so numb that it felt like he was moving through syrup.

The only way to stop the pain was the χ-blade, he was told. He wasn’t sure he believed it, but as soon as he saw Ventus, he felt more pieced together than he ever had in his existence. His heart filled with some emotion he couldn’t describe—it was warm. Anger, perhaps? That was like a fire within his gut, so that must be it. His fury and hatred toward Ventus manifested; he was endlessly angry that Ventus had it good, that he had friends and a home instead of an endless expanse of dust that took everything away. The feeling curling around his heart proved that his master was right—the χ-blade was the only way.

So he chased Ventus through the worlds mindlessly, following the call of his heart, the burning feelings inside of him. The closer he got to his other half, the better he felt; the less distance between them, the closer they were to forming the χ-blade. All he wanted was to forge it to feel complete, so he made himself hollow to achieve that goal. It hurt and seemed counterproductive, but you have to lose something to gain something, right? At least, that’s what he told himself as he screamed into the empty world until his throat was raw.

The more emotions he pushed out and the more he saw Ventus, the more it ached. Having to go back to the hollowness after feeling so _close_ was tearing at every atom in his body—but it was necessary. He was told to prepare Ventus, so prepare Ventus he did. The pain was worth the ultimate goal, the only thing that would work.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
When Vanitas got to his ultimate goal, both beat down so much that there was no choice but to join together, he experienced the strangest feeling of all. Something so foreign that it made him want to vomit, but he couldn’t push it out anyways—there was nothing left. No more fake body, only his real body to seep into so he could be a genuine _person_ again.

The moments where he and Ventus were fully joined, forming the χ-blade in a perfect display made Vanitas feel so full that he thought his heart might ooze out of the cracks in his psyche. It was painful, but a wonderful kind of pain. It made him feel alive for the first time he could really remember.

Being split apart from Ventus, rent from his other half once again nearly forced him to his knees. He wanted to collapse and tear his fingers into Ventus until he could slither inside of him and take place where he belonged, but everything was dissolving before his very eyes. As the particles of his being ripped apart, bursting into light, he felt hollower than he ever had. He had nothing, so maybe death would be sweet release. If his very essence crumbled away, there would be nothing to fill, therefore nothing to empty.

He closed his eyes and let everything fade away, looking forward to peace.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
There was no peace. There was no mercy—fate and destiny would not let him rest.

He was imprisoned, trapped in a place that was so serene it hurt. He ripped at the fragile edges of the prison, but it was still not enough to pull through. His ethereal mockery of a body was not strong enough, simply glitching backwards if he got too close. He was left sobbing into the sand, too broken to even try to force his emotions out.

He must have passed out at some point, only broken out of his comatose state by a hand in his hair. He groaned and lifted his head up, only to see the person he hated ( _needed_ ) most of all, staring at him with wide blue eyes full of pity. Vanitas instinctively lunged for him, knocking him onto the ground with one hand around his throat and the other punching him over and over. “You son of a bitch! You fucking bastard! What did you do?!”

Ventus couldn’t do anything, eyes squeezed shut and gaping like a fish as he tore at the hand on his throat. Somehow, this existence wouldn’t let physical wounds bloom, but Vanitas wouldn’t stop laying into him, trying to make him hurt as much as he had. It seemed Ventus couldn’t even die, just lay there and take it until Vanitas tired out, curling into a ball and screaming. He didn’t even care as his other half gagged and retched into the sand, making utterly pathetic noises—he deserved to feel Vanitas’s existence, the agony and hollowness that plagued him.

After some time—minutes or hours or days, Vanitas didn’t know—Ventus wheezed out, “Why do you need the χ-blade so bad?”

Vanitas couldn’t stop himself from being pathetic, weeping, “I just wanted to be whole! You don’t understand!”

“I do,” Ventus rasped solemnly, his voice cracking. “I’m not truly whole, either.”

“Why wouldn’t you be? You have a home. Friends. A place to be,” Vanitas spat.

Ventus flopped onto the sand next to Vanitas. “That’s not what being whole is. It’s your heart.”

He uncurled from his ball, wiping snot from his nose. “You’re stupid.”

His lighter half hummed, staring at the sky. “Don’t you feel better here?”

Vanitas stared at the sky along with him, thinking. He had done nothing here besides scream and try to escape—there had been no time to observe. As he breathed in the ocean air, he realized Ventus was right. His chest felt a little fuller, his heart less fractured, but that couldn’t be right; the only thing that could fill the whole in his heart was the χ-blade, and that had faded with the shards of his existence.

He shook his head emphatically. “It’s a mockery. A sham.”

“We’re together. That’s how it’s supposed to be—you’re the one filling up my heart, and I’m filling up yours.”

“We’re not even joined, idiot,” Vanitas sighed, digging his hands into the sand.

Ventus turned over to look at him. “We don’t have to be. We’re always connected, so being next to you is all I need.”

Vanitas muttered insults under his breath and pretended not to hear him, though that wouldn’t be the last conversation of that kind.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
It took time for Vanitas to get accustomed to a life not full of hurt and suffering. He couldn’t summon his monsters here, so all he could do was try to come to terms with his emotions—if he ignored them and it became too much, the darkness physically seeped out of his body. He wasn't in control of it in the way he usually was when he was real; he couldn't keep it in as it leaked out of every pore and every orifice, even pouring out of his eyes like dark tears and bleeding from his nose.

No matter how much Vanitas snarled at Ventus, called him every insult that echoed in his own mind and physically fought him, he stayed by his side. He was the one rubbing his back when he was sick, the one wiping it off his face and brushing away his tears; Ventus gave him softness that was so unfamiliar he thought he’d disintegrate.

The first time Ventus hugged him, he fought him off and crushed him into the sand, screaming, “What did you do to me?!” The only thought was that Ventus was trying to hurt him.

“Have you never been hugged?” Ventus asked, staring Vanitas directly in the eyes. “It’s supposed to be comforting.”

“Who the fuck do you think would hug me?” Vanitas bit out, getting off of Ventus. The only other person he ever knew was his master, and gentle touches didn’t exist in that world.

“Then let me do it, stupid.”

It was phrased as a request, but Ventus didn’t wait for an answer, sitting up and taking Vanitas into his arms. Vanitas stiffened and tried to push him away, but it was so weak that Ventus didn’t take any mind. He trailed his fingers down Vanitas’s spine, humming some song that tugged at the edges of Vanitas’s heart.

Once the sirens stopped blaring in Vanitas’s head and he realized he wasn’t being assaulted, he melted into the hug. Muttering into Ventus’s ear that he would end him if he ever told anyone, he gripped Ventus tighter and buried his face in his neck. They both ignored the tears that soaked into Ventus’s shirt, and Vanitas was grateful for that small mercy.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Slowly, Ventus began to push the boundaries of contact more; Vanitas allowed it sometimes, letting Ventus take hold of his hand and press up close to him at night. Other days his mind would scream at him, and Vanitas would go into absolute fits upon being touched, lashing out at everything; however, that also included himself, which left Ventus to pick up the shattered pieces of his other half.

Still, Ventus was patient, waiting for him to calm down. Slowly, he learned the things that helped Vanitas; he hummed songs, drew pictures in the sand, talked about the most menial things until Vanitas stopped thrashing and shrieking on the ground. Even when Vanitas punched him, Ventus let him into his arms at the end of the day. There was a fair share of insults exchanged—Ventus went for ‘stupid’ and ‘idiot’ while Vanitas went for things more like ‘motherfucker’ and ‘bastard’—but Vanitas grew comfortable with the banter. The words weren’t barbed like the ones he’d always heard; they were somehow full of affection, followed by laughter and happiness. Ventus knew the same, knew that Vanitas’s words were not truly meant to hurt.

Normal happiness—not the malicious thing he had once felt—was strange. When Vanitas truly felt it, he felt like something was wrong. His stomach was squirming, and it felt like something was inside of him, filling him with dangerous warmth. Ventus had to explain it to him—no he wasn’t sick, he wasn’t dying. This was how life was supposed to be.

He didn’t know life could be that way. It was supposed to be full of pain. Life wasn’t fair, destiny wasn’t kind, and that was how existence worked, right? Turns out, he could be at peace. He could lay on the shore and listen to the waves. He could have play fights with Ventus. He could sleep in late. He could float in the ocean and let himself be carried away. No one came to stop him, no one came to hurt him no matter what. For the first time, he simply let himself… exist.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
The next step Ventus took was the scariest of all—kissing. It happened one day while they were tussling, Ventus ending up on top of Vanitas and Vanitas playfully threatening him. When Ventus saw the brightest grin on his face, it felt completely natural to lean in and let their lips meet.

While it was somewhat terrifying, Vanitas didn’t panic like he used to. He pushed Ventus off of him and stared with eyes wide open, but he didn’t run, didn’t scream, didn’t fight. Ventus smiled at him and told him it was okay; he would wait as long as Vanitas needed. He held his hand while Vanitas was quiet, not making him speak or explain himself.

It was a lot to take in, but Vanitas couldn’t say he didn’t like it—he loved it ( _was that what love was?_ ). That felt like the closest he could get to Ventus, filling his heart and making flowers bloom in his chest. When he was ready, he came to Ventus with shaking hands, cupping his face softly to press a kiss to his lips, happy and overwhelmed tears running down his face. Ventus didn’t comment on them, simply kissed them away and held him tight as he shook.

Vanitas grew to crave the kisses, trying to hold Ventus every time he saw him; Ventus made fun of his overzealousness, but Vanitas knew it was in good fun because he returned the embraces every single time. The favorite part of Vanitas’s day was waking up to kisses illuminated by the sunrise, smiling into them until he felt like his cheeks would crack. Smiles were nice, he learned, and Ventus smiling into his kisses was even nicer.

When Vanitas learned how the kisses could turn heated, it made his insides squirm in a different way—butterflies, Ventus told him. When Ventus shuddered around his exploring tongue and tangled his legs with his, Vanitas knew the world was right.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
One day, between firm, sloppy kisses, Ventus gasped, “I love you, Vanitas.”

Vanitas didn’t stop kissing, even as he spoke words that were dissonant from his actions. “I don’t know what love is.”

“I think you do, but that’s okay,” Ventus smiled, and that was enough for then.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Vanitas spent a lot of time thinking after his other half’s declaration. What was love? Could a monster with an incomplete and hollow heart feel it? 

Ventus tried to explain it to him, but it was hard to put into words. Vanitas simply nodded along and hoped that Ventus wouldn’t get offended that he didn’t—couldn’t—understand, that he wasn’t sure if he could ever reciprocate. He figured the way he treated Ventus was the closest approximation of love; hopefully, Ventus could be happy with his endless embraces and pure devotion.

One day, he laid in bed, simply watching Ventus as he slept. He admired Ventus’s golden hair and the light eyelashes that lay against his cheeks. It filled him with peace to see him sleeping so calmly, and Vanitas hoped he was having good dreams; he only deserved good, not all the pain the world had put upon his frail shoulders.

And then, Vanitas realized.

The way he wanted to hold Ventus to him. The way he kissed Ventus like he was the last breath of oxygen. The way he only wanted Ventus. The way he only needed Ventus. The way he would suffer all the pain again for Ventus.

That was love, wasn’t it?

Desperately, Vanitas shook him awake, and Ventus gasped abruptly out of sleep. “What is it, Van? Are you okay?”

“I think I love you.”

Ventus rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and smiled up at him. “I know, stupid. I was waiting for you to realize it.”

“You’re a real brat sometimes.”

“I know, but you love me anyways.”

And Vanitas did.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
“Do you think you’re still hollow?” Ventus questioned one day, pulling his face out of Vanitas’s chest.

Vanitas thought for a moment, rubbing a finger over Ventus’s lips. “Nah.”

“Good,” Ventus hummed, letting Vanitas pull him back into his arms, right where he belonged.

It took him years, but Vanitas knew. It wasn’t the χ-blade. It never was.

It was always Ventus, and he vowed that it was going to be Ventus from now on.


End file.
